HOROR STORY

Name  : Litia Darmawati

D.4.1

12.23.125

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INCREDIBLE ADVENTURES
By
Algernon Blackwood
Publisher‟s Notes
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Contents
Incredible Adventures .......................................................... 1
Contents .................................................................................... 2
THE REGENERATION OF LORD ERNIE .................................. 3
I ................................................................................................. 3
II ............................................................................................... 11
III ............................................................................................. 18
IV ............................................................................................. 30
V .............................................................................................. 38
3
THE REGENERATION OF LORD ERNIE
I
JOHN HENDRICKS was bear-leading at the time. He had originally studied for Holy Orders, but had abandoned the Church later for private reasons connected with his faith, and had taken to teaching and tutoring instead. He was an honest, upstanding fellow of five-and-thirty, incorruptible, intelligent in a simple, straightforward way. He played games with his head, more than most Englishmen do, but he went through life without much calculation. He had qualities that made boys like and respect him; he won their confidence. Poor, proud, ambitious, he realised that fate offered him a chance when the Secretary of State for Scotland asked him if he would give up his other pupils for a year and take his son, Lord Ernie, round the world upon an educational trip that might make a man of him. For Lord Ernie was the only son, and the Marquess‟s influence was naturally great. To have deposited a regenerated Lord Ernie at the castle gates might have guaranteed Hendricks‟ future. After leaving Eton prematurely the lad had come under Hendricks‟ charge for a time, and with such excellent results—„I‟d simply swear by that chap, you know,‟ the boy used to say—that[4] his father, considerably impressed, and rather as a last resort, had made this proposition. And Hendricks, without much calculation, had accepted it. He liked „Bindy‟ for himself. It was in his heart to „make a man of him,‟ if possible. They had now been round the world together and had come up from Brindisi to the Italian Lakes, and so into Switzerland. It was middle October. With a week or two to spare they were making leisurely for the ancestral halls in Aberdeenshire.
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The nine months‟ travel, Hendricks realised with keen disappointment, had accomplished, however, very little. The job had been exhausting, and he had conscientiously done his best. Lord Ernie liked him thoroughly, admiring his vigour with a smile of tolerant good-nature through his ceaseless cigarette smoke. They were almost like two boys together. „You ARE a chap and a half, Mr. Hendricks. You really ought to be in the Cabinet with my father.‟ Hendricks would deliver up his useless parcel at the castle gates, pocket the thanks and the hard-earned fee, and go back to his arduous life of teaching and writing in dingy lodgings. It was a pity, even on the lowest grounds. The tutor, truth to tell, felt undeniably depressed. Hopeful by nature, optimistic, too, as men of action usually are, he cast about him, even at the last hour, for something that might stir the boy to life, wake him up, put zest and energy into him. But there was only Paris now between them and the end; and Paris certainly could not be relied upon for help. Bindy‟s desire for Paris even was not strong enough to count. No desire in him was ever strong. There lay the crux of the problem in a word—Lord Ernie was without desire which is life.
[5] Tall, well-built, handsome, he was yet such a feeble creature, without the energy to be either wild or vicious. Languid, yet certainly not decadent, life ran slowly, flabbily in him. He took to nothing. The first impression he made was fine—then nothing. His only tastes, if tastes they could be called, were out-of-door tastes: he was vaguely interested in flying, yet not enough to master the mechanism of it; he liked motoring at high speed, being driven, not driving himself; and he loved to wander about in woods, making fires like a Red Indian, provided they lit easily, yet even this, not for the poetry of the thing nor for any love of adventure, but just „because.‟ „I like fire, you know; like to watch it
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burn.‟ Heat seemed to give him curious satisfaction, perhaps because the heat of life, he realised, was deficient in his six-foot body. It was significant, this love of fire in him, though no one could discover why. As a child he had a dangerous delight in fireworks—anything to do with fire. He would watch a candle flame as though he were a fire-worshipper, but had never been known to make a single remark of interest about it. In a wood, as mentioned, the first thing he did was to gather sticks—though the resulting fire was never part of any purpose. He had no purpose. There was no wind or fire of life in the lad at all. The fine body was inert.
Hendricks did wrong, of course, in going where he did—to this little desolate village in the Jura Mountains—though it was the first time all these trying months he had allowed himself a personal desire. But from Domo Dossola the Simplon Express would pass Lausanne, and from Lausanne to the Jura was but a step—all on the way home,[6] moreover. And what prompted him was merely a sentimental desire to revisit the place where ten years before he had fallen violently in love with the pretty daughter of the Pasteur, M. Leysin, in whose house he lodged. He had gone there to learn French. The very slight detour seemed pardonable.
His spiritless charge was easily persuaded.
„We might go home by Pontarlier instead of Bâle, and get a glimpse of the Jura,‟ he suggested. „The line slides along its frontiers a bit, and then goes bang across it. We might even stop off a night on the way—if you cared about it. I know a curious old village—Villaret—where I went at your age to pick up French.‟
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„Top-hole,‟ replied Lord Ernie listlessly. „All on the way to Paris, ain‟t it?‟
„Of course. You see there‟s a fortnight before we need get home.‟
„So there is, yes. Let‟s go.‟ He felt it was almost his own idea, and that he decided it.
„If you‟d REALLY like it.‟
„Oh, yes. Why not? I‟m sick of cities.‟ He flicked some dust off his coat sleeve with an immaculate silk handkerchief, then lit a cigarette. „Just as you like,‟ he added with a drawl and a smile. „I‟m ready for anything.‟ There was no keenness, no personal desire, no choice in reality at all; flabby good-nature merely.
A suggestion was invariably enough, as though the boy had no will of his own, his opposition rarely more than negative sulking that soon flattened out because it was forgotten. Indeed, no sign of positive life lay in him anywhere—no vitality, aggression, coherence of desire and will; vacuous rather than imbecile; unable to go forward upon any[7] definite line of his own, as though all wheels had slipped their cogs; a pasty soul that took good enough impressions, yet never mastered them for permanent use. Nothing stuck. He would never make a politician, much less a statesman. The family title would be borne by a nincompoop. Yet all the machinery was there, one felt—if only it could be driven, made to go. It was sad. Lord Ernie was heir to great estates, with a name and position that might influence thousands.
And Hendricks had been a good selection, with his virility and gentle, understanding firmness. He understood the problem. „You‟ll do what no one else could,‟ the anxious father told him, „for he worships you, and you can sting without hurting him. You‟ll put life and interest into him if anybody in this world can. I have
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great hopes of this tour. I shall always be in your debt, Mr. Hendricks.‟ And Hendricks had accepted the onerous duty in his big, high-minded way. He was conscientious to the backbone. This little side-trip was his sole deflection, if such it can be called even. „Life, light and cheerful influences,‟ had been his instructions, „nothing dull or melancholy; an occasional fling, if he wants it—I‟d welcome a fling as a good sign—and as much intercourse with decent people, and stimulating sight-seeing as you can manage—or can stand,‟ the Marquess added with a smile. „Only you won‟t overtax the lad, will you? Above all, let him think HE chooses and decides, when possible.‟
Villaret, however, hardly complied with these conditions; there was melancholy in it; Hendricks‟ mind—whose reflexes the spongy nature of the empty lad absorbed too easily—would be in a minor key. Yet a night could work no harm.[8] Whence came, he wondered, the fleeting notion that it might do good? Was it, perhaps, that Leysin, the vigorous old Pasteur, might contribute something? Leysin had been a considerable force in his own development, he remembered; they had corresponded a little since; Leysin was out of the common, certainly, restless energy in him as of the sea. Hendricks found difficulty in sorting out his thoughts and motives, but Leysin was in them somewhere—this idea that his energetic personality might help. His vitalising effect, at least, would counteract the melancholy.
For Villaret lay huddled upon unstimulating slopes, the robe of gloomy pine-woods sweeping down towards its poverty from bleak heights and desolate gorges. The peasants were morose, ill-living folk. It was a dark untaught corner in a range of otherwise fairy mountains, a backwater the sun had neglected to clean out. Superstitions, Hendricks remembered, of incredible kind still
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lingered there; a touch of the sinister hovered about the composite mind of its inhabitants. The Pasteur fought strenuously this blackness in their lives and thoughts; in the village itself with more or less success—though even there the drinking and habits of living were utterly unsweetened—but on the heights, among the somewhat arid pastures, the mountain men remained untamed, turbulent, even menacing. Hendricks knew this of old, though he had never understood too well. But he remembered how the English boys at la cure were forbidden to climb in certain directions, because the life in these scattered châlets was somehow loose and violent. There was danger there, the danger, however, never definitely stated. Those lonely ridges lay cursed[9] beneath dark skies. He remembered, too, the savage dogs, the difficulty of approach, the aggressive attitude towards the plucky Pasteur‟s visits to these remote upland pâturages. They did not lie in his parish: Leysin made his occasional visits as man and missionary; for extraordinary rumours, Hendricks recalled, were rife, of some queer worship of their own these lawless peasants kept alive in their distant, windy territory, planted there first, the story had it, by some renegade priest whose name was now forgotten.
Hendricks himself had no personal experiences. He had been too deeply in love to trouble about outside things, however strange. But Marston‟s case had never quite left his memory—Marston, who climbed up by unlawful ways, stayed away two whole days and nights, and came back suddenly with his air of being broken, shattered, appallingly used up, his face so lined and strained it seemed aged by twenty years, and yet with a singular new life in him, so vehement, loud, and reckless, it was like a kind of sober intoxication. He was packed off to England before he
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could relate anything. But he had suffered shocks. His white, passionate face, his boisterous new vigour, the way M. Leysin screened his view of the heights as he put him personally into the Paris train—almost as though he feared the boy would see the hills and make another dash for them!—made up an unforgettable picture in the mind.
Moreover, between the sodden village and that string of evil châlets that lay in their dark line upon the heights there had been links. Exactly of what nature he never knew, for love made all else uninteresting; only, he remembered swarthy, dark-faced messengers descending into the sleepy hamlet[10] from time to time, big, mountain-limbed fellows with wind in their hair and fire in their eyes; that their visits produced commotion and excitement of difficult kinds; that wild orgies invariably followed in their wake; and that, when the messengers went back, they did not go alone. There was life up there, whereas the village was moribund. And none who went ever cared to return. Cudrefin, the young giant vigneron, taken in this way, from the very side of his sweetheart too, came back two years later as a messenger himself. He did not even ask for the girl, who had meanwhile married another. „There‟s life up there with us,‟ he told the drunken loafers in the „Guillaume Tell,‟ „wind and fire to make you spin to the devil—or to heaven!‟ He was enthusiasm personified. In the village he had been merely drinking himself stupidly to death. Vaguely, too, Hendricks remembered visits of police from the neighbouring town, some of them on horseback, all armed, and that once even soldiers accompanied them, and on another occasion a bishop, or whatever the church dignitary was called, had arrived suddenly and promised radical assistance of a spiritual kind that had never materialised—oh, and many other
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details that now trooped back with suggestions time had certainly not made smaller. For the love had passed along its way and gone, and he was free now to the invasion of other memories, dwarfed at the time by that dominating, sweet passion.
Yet all the tutor wanted now, this chance week in late October, was to see again the corner of the mossy forest where he had known that marvellous thing, first love; renew his link with Leysin who had taught him much; and see if, perchance, this man‟s stalwart, virile energy might possibly overflow with benefit into[11] his listless charge. The expenses he meant to pay out of his own pocket. Those wild pagans on the heights—even if they still existed—there was no need to mention. Lord Ernie knew little French, and certainly no word of PATOIS. For one night, or even two, the risk was negligible.
Was there, indeed, risk at all of any sort? Was not this vague uneasiness he felt merely conscience faintly pricking? He could not feel that he was doing wrong. At worst, the youth might feel depression for a few hours—speedily curable by taking the train.
Something, nevertheless, did gnaw at him in subconscious fashion, producing a sense of apprehension; and he came to the conclusion that this memory of the mountain tribe was the cause of it—a revival of forgotten boyhood‟s awe. He glanced across at the figure of Bindy lounging upon the hotel lawn in an easy-chair, full in the sunshine, a newspaper at his feet. Reclining there, he looked so big and strong and handsome, yet in reality was but a painted lath without resistance, much less attack, in all his many inches. And suddenly the tutor recalled another thing, the link, however, undiscoverable, and it was this: that the boy‟s mother, a Canadian, had suffered once severely from a winter in Quebec, where the Marquess had first made her acquaintance. Frost had
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robbed her, if he remembered rightly, of a foot—with the result, at any rate, that she had a wholesome terror of the cold. She sought heat and sun instinctively—fire. Also, that asthma had been her sore affliction—sheer inability to take a full, deep breath. This deficiency of heat and air, therefore, were in her mind. And he knew that Bindy‟s birth had been an anxious time, the anxiety[12] justified, moreover, since she had yielded up her life for him.
And so the singular thought flashed through him suddenly as he watched the reclining, languid boy, Cudrefin‟s descriptive phrase oddly singing in his head—
„Heat and fire, fire and wind—why, it‟s the very thing he lacks! And he‟s always after them. I wonder——!‟
II
The lumbering yellow diligence brought them up from the Lake shore, a long two hours, deposited them at the opening of the village street, and went its grinding, toiling way towards the frontier. They arrived in a blur of rain. It was evening. Lowering clouds drew night before her time upon the world, obscuring the distant summits of the Oberland, but lights twinkled here and there in the nearer landscape, mapping the gloom with signals. The village was very still. Above and below it, however, two big winds were at work, with curious results. For a lower wind from the east in gusty draughts drove the body of the lake into quick white horses which shone like wings against the deep basses Alpes, while a westerly current swept the heights immediately above the village. There was this odd division of two weathers, presaging a change. A narrow line of clear bright sky showed up the Jura outline finely towards the north, stars peeping sharply
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through the pale moist spaces. Hurrying vapours, driven by the upper westerly wind, concealed them thinly. They flashed and vanished. The entire ridge, five thousand feet in the air, had an appearance of moving through[13] the sky. Between these opposing winds at different levels the village itself lay motionless, while the world slid past, as it were, in two directions.
„The earth seems turning round,‟ remarked Lord Ernie. He had been reading a novel all day in train and steamer, and smoking endless cigarettes in the diligence, his companion and himself its only occupants. He seemed suddenly to have waked up. „What is it?‟ he asked with interest.
Hendricks explained the queer effect of the two contrary winds. Columns of peat smoke rose in thin straight lines from the blur of houses, untouched by the careering currents above and below. The winds whirled round them.
Lord Ernie listened attentively to the explanation.
„I feel as if I were spinning with it—like a top,‟ he observed, putting his hand to his head a moment. „And what are those lights up there?‟
He pointed to the distant ridge, where fires were blazing as though stars had fallen and set fire to the trees. Several were visible, at regular intervals. The sharp summits of the limestone mountains cut hard into the clear spaces of northern sky thousands of feet above.
„Oh, the peasants burning wood and stuff, I suppose,‟ the tutor told him.
The youth turned an instant, standing still to examine them with a shading hand.
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„People live up there?‟ he asked. There was surprise in his voice, and his body stiffened oddly as he spoke.
„In mountain châlets, yes,‟ replied the other a trifle impatiently, noticing his attitude. „Come along now,‟ he added, „let‟s get to our rooms in the carpenter‟s house before the rain comes down. You[14] can see the windows twinkling over there,‟ and he pointed to a building near the church. „The storm will catch us.‟ They moved quickly down the deserted street together in the deepening gloom, passing little gardens, doors of open barns, straggling manure heaps, and courtyards of cobbled stones where the occasional figure of a man was seen. But Lord Ernie lingered behind, half loitering. Once or twice, to the other‟s increasing annoyance, he paused, standing still to watch the heights through openings between the tumble-down old houses. Half a dozen big drops of rain splashed heavily on the road.
„Hurry up!‟ cried Hendricks, looking back, „or we shall be caught. It‟s the mountain wind—the coup de joran. You can hear it coming!‟ For the lad was peering across a low wall in an attitude of fixed attention. He made a gesture with one hand, as though he signalled towards the ridges where the fires blazed. Hendricks called pretty sharply to him then. It was possible, of course, that he misinterpreted the movement; it MAY merely have been that he passed his fingers through his hair, across his eyes, or used the palm to focus sight, for his hat was off and the light was quite uncertain. Only Hendricks did not like the lingering or the gesture. He put authority into his tone at once. „Come along, will you; come along, Bindy!‟ he called.
The answer filled him with amazement.
„All right, all right. I‟ll follow in a moment. I like this.‟
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The tutor went back a few steps towards him. The tone startled him.
„Like what?‟ he asked.
And Lord Ernie turned towards him with another[15] face. There was fighting in it. There was resolution.
„This, of course,‟ the boy answered steadily, but with excitement shut down behind, as he waved one arm towards the mountains. „I‟ve dreamed this sort of thing; I‟ve known it somewhere. We‟ve seen nothing like it all our stupid trip.‟ The flash in his brown eyes passed then, as he added more quietly, but with firmness: „Don‟t wait for me; I‟ll follow.‟
Hendricks stood still in his tracks. There was a decision in the voice and manner that arrested him. The confidence, the positive statement, the eager desire, the hint of energy—all this was new. He had never encouraged the boy‟s habit of vivid dreaming, deeming the narration unwise. It flashed across him suddenly now that the „deficiency‟ might be only on the surface. Energy and life hid, perhaps, subconsciously in him. Did the dreams betray an activity he knew not how to carry through and correlate with his everyday, external world? And were these dreams evidence of deep, hidden desire—a clue, possibly, to the energy he sought and needed, the exact kind of energy that might set the inert machinery in motion and drive it?
He hesitated an instant, waiting in the road. He was on the verge of understanding something that yet just evaded him. Bindy‟s childish, instinctive love of fire, his passion for air, for rushing wind, for oceans of limitless——
There came at that moment a deep roaring in the mountains. Far away, but rapidly approaching, the ominous booming of it
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filled the air. The westerly wind descended by the deep gorges, shaking the forests, shouting as it came. Clouds of white dust spiralled into the sky off the upper roads, spread into[16] sheets like snow, and swept downwards with incredible velocity. The air turned suddenly cooler. More big drops of rain splashed and thudded on the roofs and road. There was a feeling of something violent and instantaneous about to happen, a sense almost of attack. The joran tore headlong down into the valley.
„Come on, man,‟ he cried at the top of his voice. „That‟s the joran! I know it of old! It‟s terrific. Run!‟ And he caught the lad, still lingering, by the arm.
But Lord Ernie shook himself free with an excitement almost violent.
„I‟ve been up there with those great fires,‟ he shouted. „I know the whole blessed thing. But where was it? Where?‟ His face was white, eyes shining, manner strangely agitated. „Big, naked fellows who dance like wind, and rushing women of fire, and——‟
Two things happened then, interrupting the boy‟s wild language. The joran reached the village and struck it; the houses shook, the trees bent double, and the cloud of limestone dust, painting the darkness white, swept on between Hendricks and the boy with extraordinary force, even separating them. There was a clatter of falling tiles, of banging doors and windows, and then a burst of icy rain that fell like iron shot on everything, raising actual spray. The air was in an instant thick. Everything drove past, roared, trembled. And, secondly—just in that brief instant when man and boy were separated—there shot between them with shadowy swiftness the figure of a man, hatless, with flying hair, who vanished with running strides into the darkness of the village
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street beyond—all so rapidly that sight[17] could focus the manner neither of his coming nor of his going. Hendricks caught a glimpse of a swarthy, elemental type of face, the swing of great shoulders, the leap of big loose limbs—something rushing and elastic in the whole appearance—but nothing he could claim for definite detail. The figure swept through the dust and wind like an animal—and was gone. It was, indeed, only the contrast of Lord Ernie‟s whitened skin, of his graceful, half-elegant outline, that enabled him to recall the details that he did. The weather-beaten visage seemed to storm away. Bindy‟s delicate aristocratic face shone so pale and eager. But that a real man had passed was indubitable, for the boy made a flurried movement as though to follow. Hendricks caught his arm with a determined grip and pulled him back.
„Who was that? Who was it?‟ Lord Ernie cried breathlessly, resisting with all his strength, but vainly.
„Some mountain fellow, of course. Nothing to do with us.‟ And he dragged the boy after him down the road. For a second both seemed to have lost their heads. Hendricks certainly felt a gust of something strike him into momentary consternation that was half alarm.
„From up there, where the fires are?‟ asked the boy, shouting above the wind and rain.
„Yes, yes, I suppose so. Come along. We shall be soused. Are you mad?‟ For Bindy still held back with all his weight, trying to turn round and see. Hendricks used more force. There was almost a scuffle in the road.
„All right, I‟m coming. I only wanted to look a second. You needn‟t drag my arm out.‟ He[18] ceased resistance, and they
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lurched forward together. „But what a chap he was! He went like the wind. Did you see the light streaming out of him—like fire?‟
„Like what?‟ shouted Hendricks, as they dashed now through the driving tempest.
„Fire!‟ bawled the boy. „It lit me up as he passed—fire that lights but does not burn, and wind that blows the world along——‟
„Button your coat and run!‟ interrupted the other, hurrying his pace, and pulling the lad forcibly after him.
„Don‟t twist! You‟re hurting! I can run as well as you!‟ came back, with an energy Bindy had never shown before in his life. He was breathless, panting, charged with excitement still. „It touched me as he passed—fire that lights but doesn‟t burn, and wind that blows the heart to flame—let me go, will you? Let go my hand.‟
He dashed free and away. The torrential rain came down in sheets now from a windless sky, for the joran was already miles beyond them, tearing across the angry lake. They reached the carpenter‟s house, where their lodging was, soaked to the skin. They dried themselves, and ate the light supper of soup and omelette prepared for them—ate it in their dressing-gowns. Lord Ernie went to bed with a hot-water bottle of rough stone. He declared with decision that he felt no chill. His excitement had somewhat passed.
„But, I say, Mr. Hendricks,‟ he remarked, as he settled down with his novel and a cigarette, calmed and normal again, „this IS a place and a half, isn‟t it? It stirs me all up. I suppose it‟s the storm. What do YOU think?‟
[19] „Electrical state of the air, yes,‟ replied the tutor briefly.
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Soon afterwards he closed the shutters on the weather side, said good-night, and went into his own room to unpack. The singular phrase Bindy had used kept singing through his head: „Fire that lights but doesn‟t burn, and wind that blows the heart to flame‟—the first time he had said „blows the world along.‟ Where on earth had the boy got hold of such queer words? He still saw the figure of that wild mountain fellow who had passed between them with the dust and wind and rain. There was confusion in the picture, or rather in his memory of it, perhaps. But it seemed to him, looking back now, that the man in passing had paused a second—the briefest second merely—and had spoken, or, at any rate, had stared closely a moment into Bindy‟s face, and that some communication had been between them in that moment of elemental violence.
III
Pasteur Leysin Hendricks remembered very well. Even now in his old age he was a vigorous personality, but in his youth he had been almost revolutionary; wild enough, too, it was rumoured, until he had turned to God of his own accord as offering a larger field for his strenuous vitality. The little man was possessed of tireless life, a born leader of forlorn hopes, attack his métier, and heavy odds the conditions that he loved. Before settling down in this isolated spot—pasteur de l’église indépendente in a protestant Canton—he had been a missionary in remote pagan lands. His horizon was a big one,[20] he had seen strange things. An uncouth being, with a large head upon a thin and wiry body supported by steely bowed legs, he had that courage which makes itself known in advance of any proof. Hendricks slipped over to la cure about nine o‟clock and found him in his study. Lord Ernie
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was asleep; at least his light was out, no sound or movement audible from his room. The joran had swept the heavens of clouds. Stars shone brilliantly. The fires still blazed faintly upon the heights.
The visit was not unexpected, for Hendricks had already sent a message to announce himself, and the moment he sat down, met the Pasteur‟s eye, heard his voice, and observed his slight imperious gestures, he passed under the influence of a personality stronger than his own. Something in Leysin‟s atmosphere stretched him, lifting his horizon. He had come chiefly—he now realised it—to borrow help and explanation with regard to Lord Ernie; the events of two hours before had impressed him more than he quite cared to own, and he wished to talk about it. But, somehow, he found it difficult to state his case; no opening presented itself; or, rather, the Pasteur‟s mind, intent upon something of his own, was too preoccupied. In reply to a question presently, the tutor gave a brief outline of his present duties, but omitted the scene of excitement in the village street, for as he watched the furrowed face in the light of the study lamp, he realised both anxiety and spiritual high pressure at work below the surface there. He hesitated to intrude his own affairs at first. They discussed, nevertheless, the psychology of the boy, and the unfavourable chances of regeneration, while the old man‟s face lit up and flashed from time to time, until at length the truth[21] came out, and Hendricks understood his friend‟s preoccupation.
„What you‟re attempting with an individual,‟ Leysin exclaimed with ardour, „is precisely what I‟m attempting with a crowd. And it‟s difficult. For poor sinners make poor saints, and the lukewarm I will spue out of my mouth.‟ He made an abrupt, resentful
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gesture to signify his disgust and weariness, perhaps his contempt as well. „Cut it down! Why cumbereth it the ground?‟
„A hard, uncharitable doctrine,‟ began the tutor, realising that he must discuss the Parish before he could introduce Bindy‟s case effectively. „You mean, of course, that there‟s no material to work on?‟
„No energy to direct,‟ was the emphatic reply. „My sheep here are—real sheep; mere negative, drink-sodden loafers without desire. Hospital cases! I could work with tigers and wild beasts, but who ever trained a slug?‟
„Your proper place is on the heights,‟ suggested Hendricks, interrupting at a venture. „There‟s scope enough up there, or used to be. Have they died out, those wild men of the mountains?‟ And hit by chance the target in the bull‟s-eye.
The old man‟s face turned younger as he answered quickly.
„Men like that,‟ he exclaimed, „do not die off. They breed and multiply.‟ He leaned forward across the table, his manner eager, fervent, almost impetuous with suppressed desire for action. „There‟s evil thinking up there,‟ he said suggestively, „but, by heaven, it‟s alive; it‟s positive, ambitious, constructive. With violent feeling and strong desire to work on, there‟s hope of some result. Upon vehement impulses like that, pagan or anything else,[22] a man can work with a will. Those are the tigers; down here I have the slugs!‟
He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back into his chair. Hendricks watched him, thinking of the stories told about his missionary days among savage and barbarian tribes.
„Born of the vital landscape, I suppose?‟ he asked. „Wind and frost and blazing sun. Their wild energy, I mean, is due to——‟
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A gesture from the old man stopped him. „You know who started them upon their wild performances,‟ he said gravely in a lower voice; „you know how that ambitious renegade priest from the Valais chose them for his nucleus, then died before he could lead them out, trained and competent, upon his strange campaign? You heard the story when you were with me as a boy——?‟
„I remember Marston,‟ put in the other, uncommonly interested, „Marston—the boy who——‟ He stopped because he hardly knew how to continue. There was a minute‟s silence. But it was not an empty silence, though no word broke it. Leysin‟s face was a study.
„Ah, Marston, yes,‟ he said slowly, without looking up; „you remember him. But that is at my door, too, I suppose. His father was ignorant and obstinate; I might have saved him otherwise.‟ He seemed talking to himself rather than to his listener. Pain showed in the lines about the rugged mouth. „There was no one, you see, who knew how to direct the great life that woke in the lad. He took it back with him, and turned it loose into all manner of useless enterprises, and the doctors mistook his abrupt and fierce ambitions for—for the hysteria which they called the vestibule of lunacy.... Yet small characters[23] may have big ideas.... They didn‟t understand, of course.... It was sad, sad, sad.‟ He hid his face in his hands a moment.
„Marston went wrong, then, in the end?‟ for the other‟s manner suggested disaster of some kind. Hendricks asked it in a whisper. Leysin uncovered his face, looped his neck with one finger, and pointed to the ceiling.
„Hanged himself!‟ murmured Hendricks, shocked.
The Pasteur nodded, but there was impatience, half anger in his tone.
22
„They checked it, kept it in. Of course, it tore him!‟
The two men looked into each other‟s eyes for a moment, and something in the younger of them shrank. This was all beyond his ken a little. An odd hint of bleak and cruel reality was in the air, making him shiver along nerves that were normally inactive. The uneasiness he felt about Lord Ernie became alarm. His conscience pricked him.
„More than he could assimilate,‟ continued Leysin. „It broke him. Yet, had outlets been provided, had he been taught how to use it, this elemental energy drawn direct from Nature——‟ He broke off abruptly, struck perhaps by the expression in his listener‟s eyes. „It seems incredible, doesn‟t it, in the twentieth century? I know.‟
„Evil?‟ asked Hendricks, stammering rather.
„Why evil?‟ was the impatient reply. „How can any force be evil? That‟s merely a question of direction.‟
„And the priest who discovered these forces and taught their use, then——?‟
[24] „Was genuinely spiritual and followed the truth in his own way. He was not necessarily evil.‟ The little Pasteur spoke with vehemence. „You talk like the religion-primers in the kindergarten,‟ he went on. „Listen. This man, sick and weary of his lukewarm flock, sought vital, stalwart systems who might be clean enough to use the elemental powers he had discovered how to attract. Only the bias of the users could make it “evil” by wrong use. His idea was big and even holy—to train a corps that might regenerate the world. And he chose unreasoning, unintellectual types with a purpose—primitive, giant men who could assimilate the force without risk of being shattered. Under his direction he
23
intended they should prove as effective as the twelve disciples of old who were fisher-folk. And, had he gone on——‟
„He, too, failed then?‟ asked the other, whose tangled thoughts struggled with incredulity and belief as he heard this strange new thing. „He died, you mean?‟
„Maison de santé,‟ was the laconic reply, „strait-waistcoats, padded cells, and the rest; but still alive, I‟m told. It was more than he could manage.‟
It was a startling story, even in this brief outline, deep suggestion in it. The tutor‟s sense of being out of his depth increased. After nine months with a lifeless, devitalised human being, this was—well, he seemed to have fallen in his sleep from a comfortable bed into a raging mountain torrent. Strong currents rushed through and over him. The lonely, peaceful village outside, sleeping beneath the stars, heightened the contrast.
„Suppressed or misdirected energy again, I suppose,‟ he said in a low tone, respecting his companion‟s emotion. „And these mountain men,‟ he asked abruptly,[25] „do they still keep up their—practices?‟
„Their ceremonies, yes,‟ corrected the other, master of himself again. „Turbulent moments of nature, storms and the like, stir them to clumsy rehearsals of once vital rituals—not entirely ineffective, even in their incompleteness, but dangerous for that very reason. This joran, for instance, invariably communicates something of its atmospherical energy to themselves. They light their fires as of old. They blunder through what they remember of HIS ceremonies. With the glasses you may see them in their dozens, men and women, leaping and dancing. It‟s an amazing sight, great beauty in it, impossible to witness even from a
24
distance without feeling the desire to take part in it. Even my people feel it—the only time they ever get alive,‟—he jerked his big head contemptuously towards the street—„or feel desire to act. And some one from the heights—a messenger perhaps—will be down later, this very evening probably, on the hunt——‟
„On the hunt?‟ Hendricks asked it half below his breath. He felt a touch of awe as he heard this experienced, genuinely religious man speak with conviction of such curious things. „On the hunt?‟ he repeated more eagerly.
„Messengers do come down,‟ was the reply. „A living belief always seeks to increase, to grow, to add to itself. Where there‟s conviction there‟s always propaganda.‟
„Ah, converts——?‟
Leysin shrugged his big black shoulders. „Desire to add to their number—desire to SAVE,‟ he said. „The energy they absorb overflows, that‟s all.‟
The Englishman debated several questions vaguely in his mind; only his mind, being disturbed, could not hold the balance exactly true. Leysin‟s influence,[26] as of old, was upon him. A possibility, remote, seductive, dangerous, began to beckon to him, but from somewhere just outside his reasoning mind.
„And they always know when one of their kind is near,‟ the voice slipped in between his tumbling thoughts, „as though they get it instinctively from these universal elements they worship. They select their recruits with marvellous judgment and precision. No messenger ever goes back alone; nor has a recruit ever been known to return to the lazy squalor of the conditions whence he escaped.‟
25
The younger man sat upright in his chair, suddenly alert, and the gesture that he made unconsciously might have been read by a keen psychiatrist as evidence of mental self-defence. He felt the forbidden impulse in him gathering force, and tried to call a halt. At any rate, he called upon the other man to be explicit. He enquired point-blank what this religion of the heights might be. What were these elements these people worshipped? In what did their wild ceremonies consist?
And Leysin, breaking bounds, let his speech burst forth in a stream of explanation, learned of actual knowledge, as he claimed, and uttered with a vehement conviction that produced an undeniable effect upon his astonished listener. Told by no dreamer, but by a righteous man who lived, not merely preached his certain faith, Hendricks, before the half was heard, forgot what age and land he dwelt in. Whole blocks of conventional belief crumbled and fell away. Brick walls erected by routine to mark narrow paths of proper conduct—safe, moral, advisable conduct—thawed and vanished. Through the ruins, scrambling at him from huge horizons never recognised before, came all manner[27] of marvellous possibilities. The little confinement of modern thought appalled him suddenly. Leysin spoke slowly, said little, was not even speculative. It was no mere magic of words that made the dim-lit study swim these deep waters beyond the ripple of pert creeds, but rather the overwhelming sense of sure conviction driving behind the statements. The little man had witnessed curious things, yes, in his missionary days, and that he had found truth in them in place of ignorant nonsense was remarkable enough. That silly superstitions prevalent among older nations could be signs really of their former greatness, linked mightily close to natural forces, was a startling notion, but it paved the way
26
in Hendricks‟ receptive mind just then for the belief that certain so-called elements might be worshipped—known intimately, that is—to the uplifting advantage of the worshippers. And what elements more suitable for adoring imitation than wind and fire? For in a human body the first signs of what men term life are heat which is combustion, and breath which is a measure of wind. Life means fire, drawn first from the sun, and breathing, borrowed from the omnipresent air; there might credibly be ways of assaulting these elements and taking heaven by storm; of seizing from their inexhaustible stores an abnormal measure, of straining this huge raw supply into effective energy for human use—vitality. Living with fire and wind in their most active moments; closely imitating their movements, following in their footsteps, understanding their „laws of being,‟ going IDENTICALLY with them—there lay a hint of the method. It was once, when men were primitively close to Nature, instinctual knowledge. The ceremony was the teaching. The Powers of fire, the[28] Principalities of air, existed; and humanity COULD know their qualities by the ritual of imitation, could actually absorb the fierce enthusiasm of flame and the tireless energy of wind. Such transference was conceivable.
Leysin, at any rate, somehow made it so. His description of what he had personally witnessed, both in wilder lands and here in this little mountain range of middle Europe, had a reality in it that was upsetting to the last degree. „There is nothing more difficult to believe,‟ he said, „yet more certainly true, than the effect of these singular elemental rites.‟ He laughed a short dry laugh. „The mediaeval superstition that a witch could raise a storm is but a remnant of a once completely efficacious system,‟ he concluded, „though how that strange being, the Valais priest, rediscovered the
27
process and introduced it here, I have never been able to ascertain. That he did so results have proved. At any rate, it lets in life, life moreover in astonishing abundance; though, whether for destruction or regeneration, depends, obviously, upon the use the recipient puts it to. That‟s where direction comes in.‟
The beckoning impulse in the tutor‟s bewildered thoughts drew closer. The moment for communicating it had come at last. Without more ado he took the opening. He told his companion the incident in the village street, the boy‟s abrupt excitement, his new-found energy, the curious words he used, the independence and vitality of his attitude. He told also of his parentage, of his mother‟s disabilities, his craving for rushing air in abundance, his love of fire for its own sake, of his magnificent physical machinery, yet of his uselessness.
And Leysin, as he listened, seemed built on wires.[29] Searching questions shot forth like blows into the other‟s mind. The Pasteur‟s sudden increase of enthusiasm was infectious. He leaped intuitively to the thing in Hendricks‟ thought. He understood the beckoning.
The tutor answered the questions as best he could, aware of the end in view with trepidation and a kind of mental breathlessness. Yes, unquestionably, Bindy HAD exchanged communication of some sort with the man, though his excitement had been evident even sooner.
„And you saw this man yourself?‟ Leysin pressed him.
„Indubitably—a tall and hurrying figure in the dusk.‟
„He brought energy with him? The boy felt it and responded?‟
Hendricks nodded. „Became quite unmanageable for some minutes,‟ he replied.
28
„He assimilated it though? There was no distress exactly?‟ Leysin asked sharply.
„None—that I could see. Pleasurable excitement, something aggressive, a rather wild enthusiasm. His will began to act. He used that curious phrase about wind and fire. He turned alive. He wanted to follow the man——‟
„And the face—how would you describe it? Did it bring terror, I mean, or confidence?‟
„Dark and splendid,‟ answered the other as truthfully as he could. „In a certain sense, rushing, tempestuous, yet stern rather.‟
„A face like the heights,‟ suggested Leysin impatiently, „a windy, fiery aspect in it, eh?‟
„The man swept past like the spirit of a storm in imaginative poetry——‟ began the tutor, hunting[30] through his thoughts for adequate description, then stopped as he saw that his companion had risen from his chair and begun to pace the floor.
The Pasteur paused a moment beside him, hands thrust deep into his pockets, head bent down, and shoulders forward. For twenty seconds he stared into his visitor‟s face intently, as though he would force into him the thought in his own mind. His features seemed working visibly, yet behind a mask of strong control.
„Don‟t you see what it is? Don‟t you see?‟ he said in a lower, deeper tone. „THEY KNEW. Even from a distance they were aware of his coming. He is one of themselves.‟ And he straightened up again. „He belongs to them.‟
„One of them? One of the wind-and-fire lot?‟ the tutor stammered.
29
The restless little man returned to his chair opposite, full of suppressed and vigorous movement, as though he were strung on springs.
„He‟s OF them,‟ he continued, „but in a peculiar and particular sense. More than merely a possible recruit, his empty organism would provide the very link they need, the perfect conduit.‟ He watched his companion‟s face with careful keenness. „In the country where I first experienced this marvellous thing,‟ he added significantly, „he would have been set apart as the offering, the sacrifice, as they call it there. The tribe would have chosen him with honour. He would have been the special bait to attract.‟
„Death?‟ whispered the other.
But Leysin shook his head. „In the end, perhaps,‟ he replied darkly,[31] „for the vessel might be torn and shattered. But at first charged to the brim and crammed with energy—with transformed vitality they could draw into themselves through him. A monster, if you will, but to them a deity; and superhuman, in our little sense, most certainly.‟
Then Hendricks faltered inwardly and turned away. No words came to him at the moment. In silence the minds of the two men, one a religious, the other a secular teacher, and each with a burden of responsibility to the race, kept pace together without speech. The religious, however, outstripped the pedagogue. What he next said seemed a little disconnected with what had preceded it, although Hendricks caught the drift easily enough—and shuddered.
„An organism needing heat,‟ observed Leysin calmly, „can absorb without danger what would destroy a normal person. Alcohol,
30
again, neither injures nor intoxicates—up to a given point—the system that really requires it.‟
The tutor, perplexed and sorely tempted, felt that he drifted with a tide he found it difficult to stem.
„Up to a point,‟ he repeated. „That‟s true, of course.‟
„Up to a given point,‟ echoed the other, with significance that made his voice sound solemn. „Then rescue—in the nick of time.‟
He waited two full minutes and more for an answer; then, as none was audible, he said another thing. His eyes were so intent upon the tutor‟s that the latter raised his own unwillingly, and understood thus all that lay behind the pregnant little sentence.
[32] „With a number it would not be possible, but with an individual it could be done. Brim the empty vessel first. Then rescue—in the nick of time! Regeneration!‟
IV
In the Englishman‟s mind there came a crash, as though something fell. There was dust, confusion, noise. Moral platitudes shouted at conventional admonitions. Warnings laughed and copy-book maxims shrivelled up. Above the lot, rising with a touch of grandeur, stood the pulpit figure of the little Pasteur, his big face shining clear through all the turmoil, strength and vision in the flaming eyes—a commanding outline with spiritual audacity in his heart. And Hendricks saw then that the man himself was standing erect in the centre of the room, one finger raised to command attention—listening. Some considerable interval must have passed while he struggled with his inner confusion.
31
Leysin stood, intently listening, his big head throwing a grotesque shadow on wall and ceiling.
„Hark!‟ he exclaimed, half whispering. „Do you hear that? Listen.‟
A deep sound, confused and roaring, passed across the night, far away, and slightly booming. It entered the little room so that the air seemed to tremble a moment. To Hendricks it held something ominous.
„The wind,‟ he whispered, as the noise died off into the distance; „yet a moment ago the night was still enough. The stars were shining.‟ There was tense excitement in the room just then. It showed in Leysin‟s face, which had gone white as a cloth. Hendricks himself felt extraordinarily stirred.
„Not wind, but human voices,‟ the older man said[33] quickly. „It‟s shouting. Listen!‟ and his eyes ran round the room, coming to rest finally in a corner where his hat and cloak hung from a nail. A gesture accompanied the look. He wanted to be out. The tutor half rose to take his leave. „You have duties to-night elsewhere,‟ he stammered. „I‟m forgetting.‟ His own instinct was to get away himself with Bindy by the first early diligence. He was afraid of yielding.
„Hush!‟ whispered Leysin peremptorily. „Listen!‟
He opened the window at the top, and through the crack, where the stars peeped brightly, there came, louder than before, the uproar of human voices floating through the night from far away. The air of the great pine forests came in with it. Hendricks listened intently a moment. He positively jumped to feel a hand upon his arm. Leysin‟s big head was thrust close up into his face.
„That‟s the commotion in the village,‟ he whispered. „A messenger has come and gone; some one has gone back with him.
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To-night I shall be needed—down here, but to-morrow night when the great ritual takes place—up there——!‟
Hendricks tried to push him away so as not to hear the words; but the little man seemed immovable as a rock. The impulse remained probably in the mind without making the muscles work. For the tutor, sorely tempted, longed to dare, yet faltered in his will.
„——if you felt like taking the risk,‟ the words continued seductively, „we might place the empty vessel near enough to let it fill, then rescue it, charged with energy, in the nick of time.‟ And the Pasteur‟s eyes were aglow with enthusiasm, his voice even trembling at the thought of high adventure to save another‟s soul.
[34] „Watch merely?‟ Hendricks heard his own voice whisper, hardly aware that he was saying it, „without taking part?‟ He said it thickly, stupidly, a man wavering and unsure of himself. „It would be an experience,‟ he stammered. „I‟ve never——‟
„Merely watch, yes; look on; let him see,‟ interrupted the other with eagerness. „We must be very careful. It‟s worth trying—a last resort.‟
They still stood close together. Hendricks felt the little man‟s breath on his face as he peered up at him.
„I admit the chance,‟ he began weakly.
„There is no chance,‟ was the vigorous reply, „there is only Providence. You have been guided.‟
„But as to risk and failure, what of them? What‟s involved?‟ he asked, recklessness increasing in him.
33
„New wine in old bottles,‟ was the answer. „But here, you tell me, the vessel is not damaged, but merely empty. The machinery is all right. If he merely watches, as from a little distance——‟
„Yes, yes, the machinery IS there, I agree. The boy has breeding, health, and all the physical qualities—good blood and nerves and muscles. It‟s only that life refuses to stay and drive them.‟ His heart beat with violence even as he said it; he felt the energy and zeal from the older man pour into him. He was realising in himself on a smaller scale what might take place with the boy in large. But still he shrank. Leysin for the moment said no more. His spiritual discernment was equal to his boldness. Having planted the seed, he left it to grow or die. The decision was not for him.
In the light of the single lamp the two men sat[35] facing each other, listening, waiting, while Leysin talked occasionally, but in the main kept silence. Some time passed, though how long the tutor could not say. In his mind was wild confusion. How could he justify such a mad proposal? Yet how could he refuse the opening, preposterous though it seemed? The enticement was very great; temptation rushed upon him. Striving to recall his normal world, he found it difficult. The face of the old Marquess seemed a mere lifeless picture on a wall—it watched but could not interfere. Here was an opportunity to take or leave. He fought the battle in terms of naked souls, while the ordinary four-cornered morality hid its face awhile. He heard himself explaining, delaying, hedging, half-toying with the problem. But the redemption of a soul was at stake, and he tried to forget the environment and conditions of
34
modern thought and belief. Sentences flashed at him out of the battle: „I must take him back worse than when I started, or—what? A violent being like Marston, or a redeemed, converted system with new energy? It‟s a chance, and my last.‟ Moreover, odd, half-comic detail—there was the support of the Church, of a protestant clergyman whose fundamental beliefs were similar to the evangelical persuasions of the boy‟s family. Conversion, as demoniacal possession, were both traditions of the blood. After all, the old Marquess might understand and approve. „You took the opening God set in your way in His wisdom. You showed faith and courage. Far be it from me to condemn you.‟ The picture on the wall looked down at him and spoke the words.
The wild hypothesis of the intrepid little missionary-pasteur swept him with an effect like[36] hypnotism. Then, suddenly, something in him seemed to decide finally for itself. He flung himself, morality and all, upon this vigorous other personality. He leaned across the table, his face close to the lamp. His voice shook as he spoke.
„Would YOU?‟ he asked—then knew the question foolish, and that such a man would shrink from nothing where the redemption of a soul was at stake; knew also that the question was proof that his own decision was already made.
There was something grotesque almost in the torrent of colloquial French Leysin proceeded to pour forth, while the other sat listening in amazement, half ashamed and half exhilarated. He looked at the stalwart figure, the wiry bowed legs as he paced the floor, the shortness of the coat-sleeves and the absence of shirt-cuffs round the powerful lean wrists. It was a great fighting man he watched, a man afraid of nothing in heaven or earth, prepared to lead a forlorn hope into a hostile unknown land. And the sight,
35
combined with what he heard, set the seal upon his half-hearted decision. He would take the risk and go.
„Pfui!‟ exclaimed the little Pasteur as though it might have been an oath, his loud whisper breaking through into a guttural sound, „pfui! Bah! Would that MY people had machinery like that so that I could use it! I‟ve no material to work on, no force to direct, nothing but heavy, sodden clay. Jelly!‟ he cried, „negative, useless, lukewarm stuff at best.‟ He lowered his voice suddenly, so as to listen at the same time. „I might as well be a baker kneading dough,‟ he continued. „They drink and yield and drink again; they never attack and drive; they‟re not worth labouring to save.‟ He struck the wooden[37] table with his fist, making the lamp rattle, while his listener started and drew back. „What good can weak souls, though spotless, be to God? The best have long ago gone up to them,‟ and he jerked his leonine old head towards the mountains. „Where there‟s LIFE there‟s hope,‟ he stamped his foot as he said it, „but the lukewarm—pfui!—I will spue them out of my mouth!‟
He paused by the window a moment, listened attentively, then resumed his pacing to and fro. Clearly, he longed for action. Indifference, half-heartedness had no place in his composition. And Hendricks felt his own slower blood take fire as he listened.
„Ah!‟ cried Leysin louder, „what a battle I could fight up there for God, could I but live among them, stem the flow of their dark strong vitality, then twist it round and up, up, up!‟ And he jerked his finger skywards. „It‟s the great sinners we want, not the meek-faced saints. There‟s energy enough among those devils to bring a whole Canton to the great Footstool, could I but direct it.‟ He paused a moment, standing over his astonished visitor. „Bring the boy up with you, and let him drink his fill. And pray, pray, I say,
36
that he become a violent sinner first in order that later there shall be something worth offering to God. Over one SINNER that repenteth——‟
A rapid, nervous knocking interrupted the flow of words, and the figure of a woman stood upon the threshold. With the opening of the door came also again the roaring from the night outside. Hendricks saw the tall, somewhat dishevelled outline of the wife—he remembered her vaguely, though she could hardly see him now in his darker corner—and recalled the fact that she had been sent out to Leysin in his[38] missionary days, a worthy, illiterate, but adoring woman. She wore a shawl, her hair was untidy, her eyes fixed and staring. Her husband‟s sturdy little figure, as he rose, stood level with her chin.
„You hear it, Jules?‟ she whispered thickly. „The joran has brought them down. You‟ll be needed in the village.‟ She said it anxiously, though Hendricks understood the PATOIS with difficulty. They talked excitedly together a moment in the doorway, their outlines blocked against the corridor where a single oil lamp flickered. She warned, urging something; he expostulated. Fragments reached Hendricks in his corner. Clearly the woman worshipped her husband like a king, yet feared for his safety. He, for his part, comforted her, scolded a little, argued, told her to „believe in God and go back to bed.‟
„They‟ll take you too, and you‟ll never return. It‟s not your parish anyhow ...‟ a touch of anguish in her tone.
But Leysin was impatient to be off. He led her down the passage. „My parish is wherever I can help. I belong to God. Nothing can harm me but to leave undone the work He gives me.‟ The steps went farther away as he guided her to the stairs. Outside the roar
37
of voices rose and fell. Wind brought the drifting sound, wind carried it away. It was like the thunder of the sea.
And the Englishman, using the little scene as a flashlight upon his own attitude, saw it for an instant as God might have seen it. Leysin‟s point of view was high, scanning a very wide horizon. His eye being single, the whole body was full of light. The risk, it suddenly seemed, was—nothing; to shirk it, indeed, the merest cowardice.
[39] He went up and seized the Pasteur‟s hand.
„To-morrow,‟ he said, a trifle shakily perhaps, yet looking straight into his eyes. „If we stay over—I‟ll bring the lad with me—provided he comes willingly.‟
„You will stay over,‟ interrupted the other with decision. „Come to supper at seven. Come in mountain boots. Use persuasion, but not force. He shall see it from a distance—without taking part.‟
„From a distance—yes,‟ the tutor repeated, „but without taking part.‟
„I know the signs,‟ the Pasteur broke in significantly. „We can rescue him in the nick of time—charged with energy and life, yet before the danger gets——‟
A sudden clangour of bells drowned the whispering voice, cutting the sentence in the middle. It was like an alarm of fire. Leysin sprang sharply round.
„The signal!‟ he cried; „the signal from the church. Some one‟s been taken. I must go at once—I shall be needed.‟ He had his hat and cloak on in a moment, was through the passage and into the street, Hendricks following at his heels. The whole place seemed alive. Yet the roadway was deserted, and no lights showed at the
38
windows of the houses. Only from the farther end of the village, where stood the cabaret, came a roar of voices, shouting, crying, singing. The impression was that the population was centred there. Far in the starry sky a line of fires blazed upon the heights, throwing a lurid reflection above the deep black valley. Excitement filled the night.
„But how extraordinary!‟ exclaimed Hendricks, hurrying to overtake his alert companion; „what[40] life there is about! Everything‟s on the rush.‟ They went faster, almost running. „I feel the waves of it beating even here.‟ He followed breathlessly.
„A messenger has come—and gone,‟ replied Leysin in a sharp, decided voice. „What you feel here is but the overflow. This is the aftermath. I must work down here with my people——‟
„I‟ll work with you,‟ began the other. But Leysin stopped him.
„Keep yourself for to-morrow night—up there,‟ he said with grave authority, pointing to the fiery line upon the heights, and at the same time quickening his pace along the street. „At the moment,‟ he cried, looking back, „your place is yonder.‟ He jerked his head towards the carpenter‟s house among the vineyards. The next minute he was gone.
V
And Hendricks, accredited tutor to a sprig of nobility in the twentieth century, asked himself suddenly how such things could possibly be. The adventure took on abruptly a touch of nightmare. Only the light in the sky above the cabaret windows, and the roar of voices where men drank and sang, brought home the reality of it all. With a shudder of apprehension he glanced at the lurid glare upon the mountains. He was committed now; not because he had
39
merely promised, but because he had definitely made up his mind.
Lighting a match, he saw by his watch that the visit had lasted over two hours. It was after eleven. He hurried, letting himself in with the big house-key, and going on tiptoe up the granite stairs. In his mind rose a picture of the boy as he had known[41] him all these weary, sight-seeing months—the mild brown eyes, the facile indolence, the pliant, watery emotions of the listless creature, but behind him now, like storm clouds, the hopes, desires, fears the Pasteur‟s talk had conjured up. The yearning to save stirred strongly in his heart, and more and more of the little man‟s reckless spiritual audacity came with it. His own affection for the lad was genuine, but impatience and adventure pushed eagerly through the tenderness. If only, oh, if only he could put life into that great six-foot, big-boned frame! Some energy as of fire and wind into that inert machinery of mind and body! The idea was utterly incredible, but surely no harm could come of trying the experiment. There WERE the huge and elemental forces, of course, in Nature, and if ... A sound in the bedroom, as he crept softly past the door, caught his attention, and he paused a moment to listen. Lord Ernie was not asleep, then, after all. He wondered why the sound got somehow at his heart. There was shuffling behind the door; there was a voice, too—or was it voices? He knocked.
„Who is it?‟ came at once, in a tone he hardly recognised. And, as he answered, „It‟s I, Mr. Hendricks; let me in,‟ there followed a renewal of the shuffling, but without the sound of voices, and the door flew open—it was not even locked. Lord Ernie stood before him, dressed to go out. In the faint starlight the tall ungainly figure filled the doorway, erect and huge, the shoulders squared,
40
the trunk no longer drooping. The listlessness was gone. He stood upright, limbs straight and alert; the sagging limp had vanished from the knees. He looked, in this semi-darkness, like another[42] person, almost monstrous. And the tutor drew back instinctively, catching an instant at his breath.
„But, my dear boy! why aren‟t you asleep?‟ he stammered. He glanced half nervously about him. „I heard you talking, surely?‟ He fumbled for a match; but, before he found it, the other had turned on the electric switch. The light flared out. There was no one else in the room. „Is anything wrong with you? What‟s the matter?‟
But the boy answered quietly, though in a deeper voice than Hendricks had ever known in him before:
„I‟m all right; only I couldn‟t sleep. I‟ve been watching those fires on the mountains. I—I wanted to go out and see.‟
He still held the field-glasses in his hand, swinging them vigorously by the strap. The room was littered with clothes, just unpacked, the heavy shooting boots in the middle of the floor; and Hendricks, noticing these signs, felt a wave of excitement sweep through him, caught somehow from the presence of the boy. There was a sense of vitality in the room—as though a rush of active movement had just passed through it. Both windows stood wide open, and the roar of voices was clearly audible. Lord Ernie turned his head to listen.
„That‟s only the village people drinking and shouting,‟ said Hendricks, closely watching each movement that he made. „It‟s perfectly natural, Bindy, that you feel too excited to sleep. We‟re in the mountains. The air stimulates tremendously—it makes the heart beat faster.‟ He decided not to press the lad with questions.
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„But I never felt like this in the Rockies or the Himalayas,‟ came the swift rejoinder, as he moved to the window and looked out.[43] „There was nothing in India or Japan like THAT!‟ He swept his hand towards the wooded heights that towered above the village so close. He talked volubly. „All those things we saw out there were sham—done on purpose for tourists. Up there it‟s real. I‟ve been watching through the glasses till—I felt I simply must go out and join it. You can see men dancing round the fires, and big, rushing women. Oh, Mr. Hendricks, isn‟t it all glorious—all too glorious and ripping for words!‟ And his brown eyes shone like lamps.
„You mean that it‟s spontaneous, natural?‟ the other guided him, welcoming the new enthusiasm, yet still bewildered by the startling change. It was not mere nerves he saw. There was nothing morbid in it.
„They‟re doing it, I mean, because they have to,‟ came the decided answer, „and because they feel it. They‟re not just copying the world.‟ He put his hand upon the other‟s arm. There was dry heat in it that Hendricks felt even through his clothes. „And that‟s what I want,‟ the boy went on, raising his voice; „what I‟ve always wanted without knowing it—real things that can make me alive. I‟ve often had it in my dreams, you know, but now I‟ve found it.‟
„But I didn‟t know. You never told me of those dreams.‟
The boy‟s cheeks flushed, so that the colour and the fire in his eyes made him positively splendid. He answered slowly, as out of some part he had hitherto kept deliberately concealed.
„Because I never could get hold of it in words. It sounded so silly even to myself, and I thought Father would train it all away and laugh at it. It‟s awfully far down in me, but it‟s so real I knew it must come out one day, and that I should find it.[44] Oh, I say, Mr.
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Hendricks,‟ and he lowered his voice, leaning out across the window-sill suddenly, „THAT fills me up and feeds me‟—he pointed to the heights—„and gives me life. The life I‟ve seen till now was only a kind of show. It starved me. I want to go up there and feel it pouring through my blood.‟ He filled his lungs with the strong mountain air, and paused while he exhaled it slowly, as though tasting it with delight and understanding. Then he burst out again, „I vote we go. Will you come with me? What d‟you say. Eh?‟
They stared at each other hard a moment. Something as primitive and irresistible as love passed through the air between them. With a great effort the older man kept the balance true.
„Not to-night, not now,‟ he said firmly. „It‟s too late. To-morrow, if you like—with pleasure.‟
„But to-morrow NIGHT,‟ cried the boy with a rush, „when the fires are blazing and the wind is loose. Not in the stupid daylight.‟
„All right. To-morrow night. And my old friend, Monsieur Leysin, shall be our guide. He knows the way, and he knows the people too.‟
Lord Ernie seized his hands with enthusiasm. His vigour was so disconcerting that it seemed to affect his physical appearance. The body grew almost visibly; his very clothes hung on him differently; he was no longer a nonentity yawning beneath an ancient pedigree and title; he was an aggressive personality. The boy in him rushed into manhood, as it were, while still retaining boyish speech and gesture. It was uncanny. „We‟ll go more than once, I vote; go again and again. This IS a place and a half. It‟s MY place with a vengeance——!‟
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[45] „Not exactly the kind of place your father would wish you to linger in,‟ his tutor interrupted. „But we might stay a day or two—especially as you like it so.‟
„It‟s far better than the towns and the rotten embassies; better than fifty Simlas and Bombays and filthy Cairos,‟ cried the other eagerly. „It‟s just the thing I need, and when I get home I‟ll show ‟em something. I‟ll prove it. Why, they simply won‟t know me!‟ He laughed, and his face shone with a kind of vivid radiance in the glare of the electric light. The transformation was more than curious. Waiting a moment to see if more would follow, Hendricks moved slowly then towards the door, with the remark that it was advisable now to go to bed since they would be up late the following night—when he noticed for the first time that the pillow and sheets were crumpled and that the bed had already been lain in. The first suspicion flashed back upon him with new certainty.
Lord Ernie was already taking off his heavy coat, preparatory to undressing. He looked up quickly at the altered tone of voice.
„Bindy,‟ the tutor said with a touch of gravity, „you WERE alone just now—weren‟t you—of course?‟
The other sat up from stooping over his boots. With his hands resting on the bed behind him, he looked straight into his companion‟s eyes. Lying was not among his faults. He answered slowly after a decided interval.
„I—I was asleep,‟ he whispered, evidently trying to be accurate, yet hesitating how to describe the thing he had to say, „and had a dream—one of my real, vivid dreams when something happens. Only, this time, it was more real than ever before. It[46] was‟—he paused, searching for words, then added—„sweet and awful.‟
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And Hendricks repeated the surprising sentence. „Sweet and awful, Bindy! What in the world do you mean, boy?‟
Lord Ernie seemed puzzled himself by the choice of words he used.
„I don‟t know exactly,‟ he went on honestly, „only I mean that it was awfully real and splendid, a bit of my own life somewhere—somewhere else—where it lies hidden away behind a lot of days and months that choke it up. I can never get at it except in woods and places, quite alone, hearing the wind or making fires, or—in sleep.‟ He hid his face in his hands a moment, then looked up with a hint of censure in his eyes. „Why didn‟t you tell me that such things WERE done? You never told me,‟ he repeated.
„I didn‟t know it myself until this evening. Leysin——‟
„I thought you knew everything,‟ Lord Ernie broke in in that same half-chiding tone.
„Monsieur Leysin told me to-night for the first time,‟ said Hendricks firmly, „that such people and such practices existed. Till now I had never dreamed that such superstitions survived anywhere in the world at all.‟ He resented the reproach. But he was also aware that the boy resented his authority. For the first time his ascendency seemed in question; his voice, his eye, his manner did not quell as formerly. „So you mean, when you say “sweet and awful,” that it was very real to you?‟ he asked. He insisted now with purpose. „Is that it, Bindy?‟
The other replied eagerly enough. „Yes, that‟s it, I think—partly. This time it was more than[47] dreaming. It was real. I got there. I remembered. That‟s what I meant. And after I woke up the thing still went on. The man seemed still in the room beside the bed, calling me to get up and go with him——‟
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„Man! What man?‟ The tutor leant upon the back of a chair to steady himself. The wind just then went past the open windows with a singing rush.
„The dark man who passed us in the village, and who pointed to the fires on the heights. He came with the wind, you remember. He pulled my coat.‟
The boy stood up as he said it. He came across the naked boarding, his step light and dancing. „Fire that heats but does not burn, and wind that blows the heart alight, or something—I forget now exactly. YOU heard it too.‟ He whispered the words with excitement, raising his arms and knees as in the opening movements of a dance.
Hendricks kept his own excitement down, but with a distinctly conscious effort.
„I heard nothing of the kind,‟ he said calmly. „I was only thinking of getting home dry. You say,‟ he asked with decision, „that you HEARD those words?‟
Lord Ernie stood back a little. It was not that he wished to conceal, but that he felt uncertain how to express himself. „In the street,‟ he said, „I heard nothing; the words rose up in my own head, as it were. But in the dream, and afterwards too, when I was wide awake, I heard them out loud, clearly: Fire that heats but does not burn, and wind that blows the heart to flame—that‟s how it was.‟
„In French, Bindy? You heard it in French?‟
[48] „Oh, it was no language at all. The eyes said it—both times.‟ He spoke as naturally as though it was the Durbah he described again. Only this new aggressive certainty was in his voice and manner. „Mr. Hendricks,‟ he went on eagerly, „YOU understand
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what I mean, don‟t you? When certain people look at one, words start up in the mind as though one heard them spoken. I heard the words in my head, I suppose; only they seemed so familiar, as though I‟d known them before—always——‟
„Of course, Bindy, I understand. But this man—tell me—did he stay on after you woke up? And how did he go?‟ He looked round at the barely furnished room for hiding-places. „It was really the dream you carried on after waking, wasn‟t it?‟
Then Bindy laughed, but inwardly, as to himself. There was the faintest possible hint of derision in his voice. „No doubt,‟ he said; „only it was one of my big, real dreams. And how he went I can‟t explain at all, for I didn‟t see. You knocked at the door; I turned, and found myself standing in the room, dressed to go out. There was a rush of wind outside the window—and when I looked he was no longer there. The same minute you came in. It was all as quick as that. I suppose I dressed—in my sleep.‟
They stood for several minutes, staring at each other without speaking. The tutor hesitated between several courses of action, unable, for the life of him, to decide upon any particular one. His instinct on the whole was to stop nothing, but to encourage all possible expression, while keeping rigorous watch and guard. Repression, it seemed to him just then, was the least desirable line to take. Somewhere there was truth in the affair. He felt out of his depth, his authority impaired, and under these temporary[49] disadvantages he might so easily make a grave mistake, injuring instead of helping. While Lord Ernie finished his undressing he leaned out of the window, taking great draughts of the keen night air, watching the blazing fires and listening to the roar of voices, now dying down into the distance.
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And the voice of his thinking whispered to him, „Let it all come out. Repress nothing. Let him have the entire adventure. If it‟s nonsense it can‟t injure, and if it‟s true it‟s inevitable.‟ He drew his head in and moved towards the door. „Then it‟s settled,‟ he said quietly, as though nothing unusual had happened; „we‟ll go up there to-morrow night—with Monsieur Leysin to show us the way. And you‟ll go to sleep now, won‟t you? For to-morrow we may be up very late. Promise me, Bindy.‟
„I‟m dead tired,‟ came the answer from the sheets. „I certainly shan‟t dream any more, if that‟s what you mean. I promise.‟
Hendricks turned the light out and went softly from the room. He could always trust the boy.
„Good-night, Bindy,‟ he said.
„Good-night,‟ came the drowsy reply.
Upstairs he lingered a long time over his own undressing, listening, waiting, watching for the least sound below. But nothing happened. Once, for his own peace of mind, he stole stealthily downstairs to the boy‟s door; then, reassured by the heavy breathing that was distinctly audible, he went up finally and got into bed himself. The night was very still now. It was cool, and the stars were brilliant over lake and forest and mountain. No voices broke the silence. He only heard the tinkle of the little streams beyond the vineyards. And by midnight he was sound asleep.
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